


Dueling Club

by sunstarunicorn



Series: Magical Flashpoint Side Stories [17]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Facing the Giants, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anti-Muggle Content, Dueling Tournament, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: As a new semester gets underway, the school dueling club sponsors a school wide competition.  Officially, all parents and guardians are welcome; unofficially is another story.  As the competition draws near, Lance and Alanna have a choice to make: compete without their uncle there or make a stand against the magical world’s prejudice.  A Magical Flashpoint Side Story





	1. All Parents Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows "Be Strong and Very Courageous" and comes before "Blessings".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

“Did you guys hear?” Shawn asked loudly, ducking around a crowd of first years as he caught up to Lance and Alanna.  Lance turned to look at the younger boy, his red hair a mess and pale gray, almost silver eyes flicking between the siblings.  The fourth year had been one of the first to welcome Lance and Alanna to the school back when they’d first moved to Toronto.

“Hear what?” Alanna inquired, tossing her head to get an errant lock of hair out of her eyes and hefting her backpack up to sling it over her shoulder.  “We were out of town this past weekend.”

Lance snorted in the background at his sister’s dry understatement.

Shawn, not noticing the look on Lance’s face, grinned at her, a faint hopeful look in his eyes that Alanna carefully ignored; she liked Shawn as a friend, but not as anything more.  “We’re organizing a dueling tournament for the whole school,” he announced, fairly bouncing in his excitement.

“The whole school?” Lance echoed, a doubtful expression on his face.  “What about the first years?”

“Huh?”

Alanna frowned, glancing between Shawn and her brother.  “Wouldn’t the first years be outmatched?” she cautiously clarified.

“Ooohhh,” Shawn realized.  “Oh, no, every year has its own bracket.”

Twin confused looks were cast at Shawn.

“Didn’t Hogwarts have a Dueling Club?” Shawn asked, one slim brow going up.

Lance cocked his head to the side.  “I think they had one the year before I started, but not really.”  A shrug.  “Not enough teachers for clubs like that.”  Sapphire eyes focused on Shawn.  “Never gone to the club here, but I’ve heard you talk about it.”

“So have I,” Alanna agreed.  “But I’ve never heard of a school-wide tournament before.”

Shawn nodded vigorously.  “They did one three years ago, but the year you guys moved here, we didn’t have enough people in the club to set things up for another tournament.  Same thing last year, but this year, the Defense teacher volunteered to help out and get a new tournament rolling.”  A wide grin crossed the redhead’s face.  “We’re hoping to get enough people interested in dueling so that we can do this again next year.”

“Good luck,” Lance drawled, checking his watch.

Shawn’s face fell a little bit.  “You guys aren’t coming?”

The siblings traded looks.  “We’ll see,” Alanna decided.  “It sounds fun, but, well…we’ll see, okay?”

The redhead brightened.  “Okay!”  Almost bouncing again, he added, “See you guys later!” and arrowed off to class.  Behind his back, the siblings traded amused looks; Shawn’s enthusiasm reminded them of Uncle Spike, though he sported a temper worse than the pair had ever seen from Uncle Spike.

“See you later, brother mine,” Alanna murmured, giving her brother a small grin as she veered off as well.

Lance smirked at Alanna’s back, making a mental note to find out a few more details about this…tournament.  It _did_ sound like fun.

* * * * *

Alanna appeared after school, waving a flyer she’d gotten from the school’s Defense teacher.  “Got the details on that tournament Shawn was telling us about,” she chirped.

“Is it like he said?” Lance queried as he tried to get a look at the wildly waving piece of parchment.

“Pretty much,” Alanna replied, shoving the parchment at her brother.  “He left out the best part though.”

Lance’s eyes lit up as Alanna pointed to what she’d seen.  “ ‘Parents welcome’.  That means Uncle Greg can come!”

Alanna paused, a wistful expression crossing her face.  “Hey, Lance?”

Looking up from the flyer, Lance cocked his head to the side at the look on his sister’s face.  “Sis?”

“Did Mom and Dad ever come to Hogwarts to see you do stuff?”

The older teen shook his head.  “No, they didn’t,” he replied, a sad note in his voice.  “Sis, Hogwarts isn’t like here; there aren’t enough teachers for all the clubs and other things we have here.”  A thoughtful look crossed Lance’s face.  “Not sure if there are enough _students_ either…never thought about it when I was there, but they really only have Quidditch and a few other small clubs.”

“And Hogwarts only teaches magic?”

Lance made a face.  “That’s right,” he agreed unhappily.  “Remember when we first got here and Uncle Greg almost had to get me a tutor?”

Alanna grimaced.  Lance hadn’t been the only one who’d almost had to get tutoring in techie subjects; he’d just been further behind than her.  Team One – along with Aunt Sophie and Aunt Shelley – had stepped into the gap and helped the two get up to speed that first summer.  “Anyway,” she hastily changed the subject, “I was thinking, we could do the tournament and maybe show Uncle Greg around the school after we’re done.  I mean, I don’t think he’s ever gotten to see the whole school.”

Lance tugged the parchment out of his sister’s hand, reading it over again.  “Friday, Saturday, Sunday…well, that makes sense if they’re inviting the whole school.  Would we be on the same day, do you think?”

Alanna craned her head and Lance held the parchment so she could read it.  “We could ask,” she offered, a note of disappointment in her voice when they saw that the parchment didn’t list any details.

“Maybe they haven’t decided yet,” Lance pointed out.  “They probably only just started advertising.”  The teen folded the parchment and swung his backpack down to tuck it away.  “We can at least tell Uncle Greg about the tournament and see if he wants to come.”

* * * * *

“A dueling tournament?” Uncle Greg asked in some surprise when the kids brought up the tournament over dinner.  “Couldn’t the students get hurt?”

Lance and Alanna traded looks; Lance took the lead.  “The Dueling Club does formal dueling, so there’s rules on which spells can be used and limits on how far a duel can go.  Plus, Shawn’s told us that at least one of the school Healers comes to every meeting, so I bet they’ll all be at the tournament, just in case.”

Partway through, Uncle Greg started nodding.  “So, it’s a bit like a karate competition, am I right?”

The siblings considered.  “Close enough,” Alanna decided.  “I mean, it’s not _exactly_ the same, but…”

“Easy there, _mia nipote_ ,” Uncle Greg teased.  “I get the idea.”  Their uncle idly twirled his fork through the risotto dish he’d taught the kids to cook a few months prior as he thought.  “You two want to do this?”

“I’m not sure I want to join the Dueling Club,” Lance admitted.  “But the tournament sounds kind of fun.  Since it’s the whole school, I don’t think we’ll be outmatched or anything like that.”

His sister giggled.  “I want to see the first years,” she snickered.  “They don’t know enough magic yet to really duel for real, so their matches are going to be _hilarious_.”

Lance choked on his own laughter.  Taking on a dramatic tone, he announced, “Disarmament, _Wingardium Leviosa_ **(1)** style!”

Alanna gave into gales of laughter, grabbing onto the table to keep herself from falling.  “Maybe you should be the announcer,” she teased.  At their uncle’s bemused look, she added, “It’s hard to duel when you haven’t even learned the basic dueling charms yet.”

A snort erupted as Uncle Greg got the picture.  “Creative spell use time, then?” he offered, earning more laughter from his charges.  As the laughter died away, he observed, “That does sound like a sight to be seen.  Which days is this going to be again?”

Lance darted away from the table, retrieving the flyer and bringing it back.  “Mostly over the weekend,” he reported.  “Less school disruption that way.”

“Understandable,” Uncle Greg agreed, taking the flyer.  “Hmm, not many specifics on here, are there?”

Alanna cleared her throat.  “Shawn said each year gets its own bracket, but I can see how the champion of, say, the first years might get to join the second year bracket.  So, um, probably the first and second years at the very least on Friday and the sixth, seventh years on Sunday.  Almost certainly the fourth, fifth years on Saturday, but I’m not sure about my year.”

Uncle Greg nodded thoughtfully.  “So, possibly late Friday, early Saturday or both,” he clarified, arching a brow.

The siblings traded looks, then looked back and nodded once.

Uncle Greg nodded again, almost to himself as he studied the flyer and tapped his fingers on the table.  “ ‘Parents welcome, tickets available’ …hmmm.”  After a minute of thinking, he looked up and asked, “Could you two get tickets for the rest of Team One?”

Wide-eyed looks were traded.  Tentatively, Alanna asked, “What about Aunt Sophie and Aunt Shelley?”

A regretful return look.  “I don’t think the Wordsworth girls are old enough to come to something like this and Clark still doesn’t know about magic.”

“We can ask,” Lance offered, though he gave the flyer a doubtful look.  Greg understood.  School event, with parents galore milling around…there might not be _room_ for ‘extended, semi-adopted’ family.

“Well, give it your best shot and if they say ‘no’, they say ‘no’,” Greg soothed.  “I’ll keep quiet until you two get back to me, all right?”

“You got it, Uncle Greg,” Alanna replied, her enthusiasm restored.  Her brother simply nodded his own acknowledgment, a scheming glint in his eyes.

* * * * *

The next day, Lance waited until after class to approach the Defense teacher.  “Professor Gregson?”

Professor Gregson, a mild-mannered middle-aged teacher with a faint scar across one cheek, dark blond hair, blue eyes, and looks that had most of Lance’s female classmates sighing after him, looked up.  “Can I help you, Mr. Calvin?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir,” Lance replied, pulling out the flyer for the tournament; Professor Gregson lit up at the sight of it, beaming at his student.  “I was wondering if my sister and I could get a few extra tickets if we sign up for this?”

“Extra tickets?” Professor Gregson questioned, curiosity flaring across his face.  “For more than just your parents?”

Awkward now, Lance brushed his hair back.  “Well, we live with our guardian, but we’ve got a couple family friends who might be interested in coming…”

“Ahhh, say no more, I understand,” Professor Gregson broke in, beaming once more.  “Certainly, all your family friends are welcome to come.”  The congeniality fell away as he leaned forward.  “Of course, I assume your guardian and these family friends are _our_ kind of folk, yes?”

Caught off-guard, Lance blinked, tilting his head to the side in unspoken query.

A serious expression crossed the professor’s face.  “That is to say, they _do_ have magic, don’t they?”

 

[1] Latin for ‘lift up high’


	2. No Techies Need Apply

“Why does that make a difference?” Lance blurted, adding a belated, “Sir?”

“Well, you _do_ know about the Statute of Secrecy, don’t you, young man?”  Professor Gregson’s tone had changed to one of educating a particularly dim student.

Lance bristled, but forced his voice to stay level and calm.  “Yes, sir, I do.  That isn’t an issue here; my uncle and our family friends are all signed onto the Official Secrets Act, which is the Muggle equivalent to the Statute of Secrecy.”

A sympathetic, but condescending expression appeared on the professor’s face.  “Yes, well, be that as it may, this is a _magical_ competition, Mr. Calvin…”

“For _students_ , sir,” Lance countered.  “You don’t need magic to enjoy a good competition between your kids and someone else’s kids.”

Professor Gregson’s smile grew rather fixed and he stood up from his desk with that same faux sympathy in his eyes.  “I’m sure you’ll understand these things better as you get older, Mr. Calvin.”  Turning brisk, he added, “We have to be vigilant in our protection of our world, so I’m very sorry, Mr. Calvin, but your family friends will simply have to hear about our little competition from you and your sister after the fact.”

Lance considered the teacher, then questioned, “Since my uncle and our family friends already _know_ about magic, how is the security of the magical world at risk if they come?”

“W-Well,” Professor Gregson stuttered, his expression surprised over Lance’s persistence.  “If we allow any and all Muggle family members and ‘friends’ to come, it _substantially_ increases the likelihood of Muggles ‘not in the know,’ as they say, discovering our world.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed, just a touch.  “Well, then, can my uncle come?”

“Does your uncle have magic?” was the equally blunt counter-question.  When Lance simply waited, refusing to answer, Professor Gregson shook his head.  “Again, I’m sorry, young man, but the safety of _all_ our students is, of course, our first priority.”

“I see,” Lance remarked, his voice shaking from the effort to keep it level.  “I apologize for taking up your valuable time, _sir_.”  With that, he picked up the flyer, turned, and stalked out of the room, vibrating in barely contained outrage.

* * * * *

“What do you mean Uncle Greg can’t come?!?” Alanna demanded loudly when Lance told her about his conversation.

“Sis, cool it,” Lance hissed, glancing around.  “Professor Gregson is trying to claim that inviting any techies constitutes a risk to the Statute of Secrecy, but I don’t buy it,” he added at Alanna’s outraged look.  “Come on, ‘Lanna, give me some credit.  _I_ know and _you_ know that techies can keep a secret even _better_ than most wizards.”  Frowning, Lance continued, “What _I_ want to know is: is he singling Uncle Greg out ‘cause I tried to get tickets for all of Team One or is this standard practice for any school events?”

Alanna frowned, considering her brother’s observation and forcing her red-hot temper down.  “What’s your gut instinct say?” she questioned after a minute or so of thought.

Lance hesitated, then sighed as Alanna gave him an expectant look.  “I think it’s standard practice,” he admitted.  “It would make sense; remember how the school reacted to Uncle Greg insisting that Professor Ellroy teach us our family magic _and_ how they reacted when Uncle Greg called them on the carpet about Professor Ellroy sniping at me and marking me down?”

The redhead nibbled her lip, reluctantly inclining her head.  Yes, she remembered and more than that, she remembered how the school had only really backed down when Madame Locksley stepped in on their uncle’s behalf.  “How do we find out for sure?”

A sly smirk was cast in her direction.  “We _investigate_ , sister dear,” Lance simpered, the evil grin on his face drawing an answering evil grin from Alanna.  “After all, it would be _quite_ remiss of us to not inquire after our classmates’ parents, wouldn’t it?”

“And if,” Alanna agreed, her grin going wider, “We should ask a few…questions…about whether the parents are coming to the tournament…  It’s just innocent conversation after all.”

“Precisely my thoughts,” Lance confirmed, his voice and face serene, though mischief danced in his eyes.  “Shall we?” he inquired, gesturing to the hallway with one hand and turning to offer his arm to Alanna.

Alanna smiled as she slipped one hand through her brother’s arm and let him escort her to lunch.  “We shall.”

* * * * *

“Is there room for me here?” Alanna asked a group of her classmates in the lunch room, biting her lip and doing her best to look forlorn and pleading.

After a moment or three, two of the girls scooted apart and made room for the redhead.  “Sure thing,” the nominal ‘leader’ of the small group replied, smiling at the new arrival.  Once Alanna was down, the leader leaned forward, a predatory light in her eyes.  “Now, what is it you came over here for?”

_So much for the discreet approach,_ Alanna realized; she smiled back, her expression calm.  “Well, Amanda, I was wondering if anyone here is planning to do that school dueling tournament.  But that’s just for starters.”

“I’m planning on doing it,” Molly piped up, a excited look on her face.  “I think it’ll be lots of fun!”

Amanda giggled.  “I’m not sure I’m going to participate, but _I_ want to see the first years duel.”

Alanna laughed, her eyes sparkling merrily.  “The dueling first years alone are going to be worth the price of admission.”

Amusement circled the small group; Alanna had picked her targets well: all of the tech-borns and half-bloods that made up Amanda’s little clique understood the techie reference.  Amanda regarded the pureblood curiously, surprised that Alanna had not only _known_ the reference, but been able – and willing – to use it.  “Okay, so _some_ of us are going,” she remarked, tilting her chin up, switching from playful to snooty and business-like.  “What’s it to _you_?”

The frontal attack didn’t even _phase_ Alanna; her smile was serene as she rejoined, “And how many of you are going to invite your parents to the tournament?”

“What are you, nuts?” Amanda yelped, half-rising from her seat.  Lowering her voice to a venomous hiss, she snarled, “You think _we_ can invite _our_ parents to this shindig?”

Alanna cocked her head to the side, the personification of innocence.  “Why not?  The flyers say ‘Parents welcome,’ don’t they?”

For almost two minutes, the girls gaped at Alanna, but the redhead merely waited them out, her eyes patient and her expression sad and resigned.  Finally, Molly tentatively offered, “Everyone knows that’s _just_ for kids with _magical_ parents.  Muggles can’t come to the school, not unless they drop the Muggle-Repelling wards like they do at the beginning and end of the year.”

Alanna frowned to herself, but didn’t contest Molly’s claim.  Instead, she pressed ahead.  “So you’re saying that _no one_ with Muggle parents can invite them to _any_ school event, am I right?”

Head bobs came from all around the group.  “That’s right,” Amanda remarked, her voice unexpectedly soft and wistful.  “I’d _love_ it if I could show my parents around the school or stuff like that.  My older sister does it all the time and she taunts me ‘cause _I_ can’t.”  Amanda flushed as she realized she’d just handed a _pureblood_ prime emotional ammunition, but the pureblood regarded her solemnly, not taunting her a bit.

* * * * *

Lance patiently worked his way into the center of a group of guys who’d made it their life’s mission to taunt and harass him as much as possible over the past few years.  They eyed him warily, obviously expecting some sort of retaliation or maybe they were calculating their next prank.  He didn’t know and he didn’t care either.  Alanna only had to deal with a small group of snotty girls; fending off a group of guys with seemingly no limits on what they were willing to pull was _much_ harder.  But this was _also_ the group with the most tech-borns in his year and right now, that spelled ‘information source’ to him.

“Good afternoon,” he intoned smoothly, mentally plastering his ‘negotiator mask’ in place.  It wasn’t as good as Uncle Greg’s, but it got the job done…most of the time anyway.  “Perhaps I might have a few moments of your time?”

The leader of the group made a show of looking Lance up and down, his gaze speculative and his expression gleeful.  When Lance refused to back down, he drawled, “I suppose we could spare a minute for one of our… _betters_.”

And that right there was the reason Lance had never voiced so much as a syllable of complaint, either to the school or to his uncle; he hadn’t wanted a group of tech-borns to get in trouble for harassing a _pureblood_.  Canada might have fewer double-standards than England, but that hardly made a difference…double-standards were double-standards.

“I thank you,” Lance replied smoothly, offering a small head tilt of acknowledgement; he ignored the startled looks he got.  “I shall not waste your time with meaningless small talk, but I _do_ have a leading question.  Are any – or all – of you planning to compete in the upcoming dueling tournament?”

Jordan growled, stepping forward, right into Lance’s space, glaring from less than an inch away.  “So what if we _are_ , pureblood?”

The slightly shorter boy met Jordan’s angry gaze unflinchingly.  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then, shall I?”  He broke off the staring contest to glance around at the other boys.  “Now then.  How many of you are going to invite your parents to this event?”

“You’re cruising for a bruisin’,” one of the other boys snapped, his eyes going narrow with fury at what he saw as a taunt.

Lance side-stepped Jordan’s swing and grabbed the larger boy’s arm, twisting it and delivering a short, swift kick to Jordan’s calf to make him kneel down; Lance yanked the other boy’s arm behind his back to complete the semi-takedown.  “Look,” Lance growled, dropping the formality.  “You don’t like me and _I_ don’t like you.  And I _get_ why you don’t like me, I really do, but all I did was ask _one_ question and I’d like an answer to that question.  _Now_.”

Around the two, Jordan’s group traded looks of uncertainty and more than a touch of nerves.  None of them had known the pureblood was capable of fighting back _without_ his wand and the discovery rattled them.  Lance waited patiently, keeping his grip on Jordan’s arm tight enough that the larger boy had no leverage with which to counter-attack.

One of the other boys, Robbie, finally cleared his throat, drawing Lance’s expectant gaze.  “We, um, we _can’t_ invite our parents to the tournament,” he admitted.

A head tilt, inviting and demanding elaboration, was backed up with a mild, “Have you ever _asked_?”

“ ‘Course we have,” Jordan growled from his position.  “What do you think we are – stupid?  But we all got the same response from the teachers.”

“Let me guess,” Lance drawled, leaning forward a bit, but careful not to apply more pressure on the captive arm he still held.  His voice went high as he mimicked a teacher, “ ‘It’s a risk to the Statute of Secrecy’, ‘I’m very sorry, but you’ll just have to regale your family afterwards’, or, oh, oh, my _favorite_ , ‘You _do_ know what the Statute of Secrecy is, don’t you?’ ”

“How’d you know _that_?” Robbie blurted out.

Lance released Jordan, stepping back and rolling his shoulders in a casual but calculated move.  “My uncle’s a Muggle,” he replied flatly.  “Thanks for the information,” he added as he turned and strolled away.

“We gonna do something to him?” Ryan asked Jordan as he regained his feet.

Jordan shoved his ‘right-hand man’ hard, glaring.  “Like _you_ did anything to stop him from taking _me_ down,” he sneered.  Then he shook his head, glancing after the pureblood.  “He’s up to something.  Not sure what, but I want to see what it is.  No one touches him; he just asked a couple questions and he could’ve broken my arm with that move.”  A thoughtful gleam entered the buff blond’s eyes.  “Just keep an eye on him and that sister of his.”

“You got it, Boss,” Robbie chirped.

“Robbie?  Shaddup.”


	3. Making a Stand

“It’s systemic,” Alanna opined with a sigh.  “I asked a couple of older girls after I talked to Amanda and her crowd and they pretty much said the same thing Amanda had.”

“And not just a ‘no one’s ever asked before’ systemic,” Lance put in, running a hand through his hair.  “Jordan’s an idiot, but I believe him when he says he asked – or guys in his group asked – doesn’t matter which.  Either way, they’re deliberately forcing tech-borns and half-bloods with techie parents to cut their connections to the tech world.  I mean, seriously, are the parents _actually_ going to _believe_ that their kid asked and got told ‘no’?”

“Hmmm, let me think about that,” Alanna mused, mockery in her voice.  “I’m going to go with a big fat _zero_ on that one.  Remember what The Judge says about teenagers?”

“Only in _this_ case, we _aren’t_ lying,” Lance grumbled.  He sighed again, glancing over at the school building and wishing, just a little, that he _didn’t_ have magic; it would make things easier, at least in the short term.

“So what now, big brother?” Alanna queried, giving Lance an expectant look.

“What do you mean, ‘what now’?”

“We’re not going to just stand here and take this, are we?” Alanna demanded, hands on hips.

“Geeze, sis, I don’t _want_ to, but what _can_ we do?  We’re just kids – and this _isn’t_ like our first Halloween here; you’re talking about going up against the _entire_ school administration _and_ centuries of tradition – not to mention fear, not just a couple of punks dressed up like the Royal Flush Gang.”  Frustration etched itself on Lance’s face and he paced back and forth.  “I’d _like_ to do something, ‘Lanna, I really would, but _what_?  And even if we come up with a ‘what’, _how_ would we do it?”

Alanna crossed her arms, watching her brother pace as she thought the problem over.  “So…we need help?”

Lance paused, turning towards her.  “Yeah, but from who?  This isn’t something Uncle Greg can help us with, ‘Lanna.”

The redhead nodded absently, turning her idea over and poking it for holes.  “I have an idea…”

* * * * *

By the beginning of the next day, the whispers were flying fast and thick; whispers about a meeting for Muggleborns and those half-bloods with one Muggle parent.  The purebloods scoffed, ignoring the meeting as beneath their notice; such meetings cropped up from time to time, but never produced anything of worth.  Nothing to worry about.

But for the Muggleborns and half-bloods, something about the tenor of _these_ whispers was different.  For those who’d walked into the magical world, wide-eyed with wonder, only to become jaded as the years went by and the magical world’s prejudice lashed at them, anything was better than doing _nothing_.  So they agreed, amongst themselves, to attend the meeting and see if, at long last, something _could_ be done, if something _could_ be changed.

* * * * *

Lance and Alanna arrived at the meeting room immediately after school and started setting things up: chairs, tables, and Lance had even – the night before – snuck out and called Mindy to Toronto so she could make and serve snacks at the meeting.  By the time the first tech-borns and half-bloods arrived, the room was as ready as it was going to be and the two purebloods were perched on the platform they’d conjured at the head of the room.  There was some grumbling when it became apparent _who_ had called the meeting, but, miraculously, no one left.  Instead, the tech-borns and half-bloods warily picked seats and sat down, cautiously chatting about the upcoming tournament and their classes.

When the meeting time arrived and – more importantly – it looked like everyone who _would_ be coming was present, Alanna stood up and let out a sharp whistle, drawing attention to the front of the meeting room.  “Thank you all for coming,” she began, raising her voice so everyone could hear her.  “We’ll get right to the point of the meeting: the fact that our Muggle parents can’t come any school events.”

“You don’t have Muggle parents,” a wag in the back yelled.

Alanna looked right back, calm and unruffled.  “No, but my brother and I _do_ have a Muggle guardian and _he’s_ not invited to our school events _either_.”

Whispers rose and Alanna didn’t even attempt to speak over the noise.  It was one of the seventh years who finally stood up and questioned, “And you two think you can change _years_ of school policy and tradition?”

“Not alone we can’t,” Lance put in, moving up beside his sister.  “But if we’ve learned anything from our uncle, it’s that if we work _together_ , we can do more than any _one_ of us could do alone.”

“Not to mention the fact that things never change unless someone _makes_ them change,” Alanna chimed in.  “So let’s start with what _doesn’t_ work, so we know what _not_ to do.”

A few confused looks were exchanged, then a third year piped up, “One time, I just brought my parents along without getting tickets and the Muggle-Repelling wards kept them out of the school.”

Alanna arched a brow, then took the techie notebook Lance shoved under her nose, along with the pen, and hastily scribbled down the third year’s attempt.  “Anyone else try something like that?” she asked.  Close to two dozen students raised their hands.  “Okay.  I’ll add asking for tickets from the teachers to the list, since we all know that doesn’t work.  Are tickets only available from the teachers?”

A sixth year stood up, glaring until he was acknowledged.  “I got a summer job last summer and saved up enough to get one of my classmates to buy my tickets for me, but the tickets had charms on ‘em and whenever I tried to give ‘em to my folks, they dashed off and I never _could_ give them the stupid tickets.”

The redhead’s eyes narrowed in ill-concealed fury and she almost ripped through the paper as she wrote the tale down.  “Anyone else try that?” she inquired, burying her rage under a forced calm.  Only a few hands went up and she shook her head.  “Please, stand up for this one.  I don’t know if bait and switch is illegal in the magical world, but it _should_ be.”

“Actually,” Lance rumbled, “Everyone who tried to get tickets through classmates, please come up and talk to me; I can’t promise anything, but we’ll try to at least get your money back.”

A short line formed by the brunet and Lance pulled out his own notebook to write down as many details as the victims could remember.  The main meeting stalled until they were done, but no one seemed to mind.  As Lance interviewed his classmates, angry hisses and outraged noises went ‘round the room; the tech-borns and half-bloods were starting to get even angrier than they had been before the meeting as they watched their scammed classmates line up to talk to the grim-faced pureblood at the front.

While Lance interviewed their classmates, Alanna flipped to a new page in her notebook and started writing, the tip of her tongue poking out as she schemed and plotted.  By the time Lance was done, she had the rough beginnings of a plan, even if she wasn’t sure it would work.  She looked up and over at her brother, who gave her a nod; he was done.  She stood up, immediately gaining the full attention of the room.  “Okay, I think trying to get our parents/guardians to the school event is out,” she admitted unhappily.  Rumbles of agreement rose from the students.  “So, as far as the school tournament goes, a boycott is really our only option.”  She looked around, her eyes apologetic.  “For those of you who were planning on going, I’m sorry, but if we want things to change, we’ll have to make our own sacrifices.”

“But that’s not all we’re going to do, is it, sis?” Lance filled in, clambering up to stand next to his sister.

“No,” Alanna agreed, glancing down at her notebook.  “But, um, that’s as far as _I_ got, I’m afraid.  Boycotting just about any school event that _says_ parents can come, but won’t let _our_ parents come.  Does anyone have any other ideas?”

A tiny first year raised her hand and stood up once she was acknowledged.  “Um, one of my brothers gave me his old books and one of them’s about the Negro League.”

“Negro League?” Lance questioned, studying the girl with an intrigued expression.  “And what’s your name?”

“I’m Ellen Talbot,” the shy little girl replied.  “And the Negro League was a baseball league for blacks, back when they weren’t allowed to play baseball with everyone else.”  Silence hung, but the interest of the other students was palpable.  Ellen perked up and continued, “The Negro League players were just as good as the white players and some of them were even _better_ , but they still weren’t allowed to play with white players until Jackie Robinson joined the Brooklyn Dodgers.  After that, anyone could play on the big baseball teams, so the Negro League died out.”

A second year bounced up, excited and waving his hand.  Without waiting to be acknowledged, he yelled, “How ‘bout we make our _own_ tournament?  We could call it the Muggleborn Tournament and invite our parents!”

For a few seconds, the room stared between the second year and little Ellen, then Ellen bobbed her head, smiling widely.  “That sounds like a great idea, Richie!”

“But that leaves the half-bloods out,” a seventh year girl pointed out, tossing her head.  “The _point_ is we don’t want to leave _anyone_ out, right?”

Alanna spoke up before things could devolve, “Ellen, you said that baseball league was called the Negro League?”

“Uh-huh,” Ellen agreed.

“Who came up with that name, do you know?”

Ellen stopped, her expression unsure.  “W-Well, I guess they probably came up with it themselves?” she offered uncertainly.

Thoughtful, Alanna folded her arms and rocked back on her heels, thinking hard.  “I think Jasmine is right,” she announced after a minute or two, gesturing to the seventh year girl who’d spoken up.  “Muggleborn Tournament leaves out the half-bloods and the Muggle raised.  But _I’m_ thinking, we’re going to do this for our parents, right?  Our _Muggle_ parents?”

Agreeing murmurs rose from the crowd, though no one looked quite sure where Alanna was going with her line of thought.

“When our uncle first heard the word ‘Muggle’, he made us stop using it,” Alanna revealed.

“What?  Why?” Jordan demanded from near the back.  Confused murmurs rose for a few seconds as the rest of the students traded startled looks; a _Muggle_ had made a _pureblood_ stop using the word ‘Muggle’?

“He said it sounded like an insult,” Lance put in, stepping forward.  “And he said it didn’t take into account _any_ of the non-magical world’s accomplishments or anything like that.”

“So what do you use instead?” Amanda chipped in from right near the front, surrounded by her clique.  “ _Non-magical_?”  Scorn dripped from her voice and she pointedly began to rearrange her hair instead of looking up at Alanna.

“Nope,” Alanna replied, popping the ‘p’ and smirking, just a bit; Amanda froze, right in the middle of pulling her hair back.  “A _non-magical_ family friend came up with a name.  Officially, the non-magical world is the technological world and we use ‘techies’ for short.”  She grinned, then added, “Look, anyone comes up with something better, we’re open to suggestions, but that’s a name that someone _without_ a lick of magic came up with _and_ it gives credit where it’s due.  ‘Cause it’s true: the magical world uses hardly any modern technology…”

“We still write with quills and parchment for crying out loud,” Lance interrupted and added.  “I think I know where my sister is going with this.  If we’re going to do this, we should do it _right_.  And I don’t know about you lot, but _I_ think doing it right means not using an insulting label for our parents or guardians.”

“So,” Alanna cut back in, her eyes lighting up in her own excitement.  “How about ‘Techie League’?  None of _us_ are techies, but that’s who we’re doing it for, right?”

One of the seventh years stood up, moving to the front, the same light of a challenge seen and accepted in his eyes.  “So,” he started.  “You want us to boycott the school tournament _and_ , at the same time, create and run our own?”

The siblings traded looks, then met the seventh year’s gaze.  “Pretty much,” Alanna replied.

“Pretty much,” Lance echoed, just a beat behind.

The seventh year, a Muggleborn/tech-born named Timothy Speedeli, grinned and turned to his classmates.  “All in favor for boycotting the school dueling tournament, say ‘Aye’.”

The Aye’s roared back at him.

“All in favor for doing our _own_ dueling tournament, say ‘Aye’.”

Again, the Aye’s roared back; Lance and Alanna traded wide-eyed looks and wisely said nothing.

Timothy’s grin was vicious and nearly triumphant.  “And all in favor of calling our organization here ‘The Techie League’?”

This time, the Aye’s were lesser and not exactly roared, but there were enough that the motion carried.  Speedeli twisted back to the Calvin siblings and he inclined his head in clear respect.  “We’re in.  What’s our next step?”

Alanna allowed a rather fangy grin of her own.  “You let _us_ handle that part.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I borrowed the last name 'Speedeli' from a CSI: Miami story called "Speed Trap" by SpeedBurn over on Fanfiction.net. Quite a good story for those of us who absolutely _hated_ "Lost Son" and the departure of one Tim Speedle from the show.
> 
> Now then, the Negro League is one of those parts of American history that's…lesser known, shall we say. It's fair to say that without the rampant prejudice and the legalization of segregation, the Negro League probably wouldn't have existed, but by the same token, the Negro League was an incredible example of a group of people who took a set of adverse circumstances and refused to let those circumstances dictate their lives. Would that we had even a fraction of the courage that some of these folks had!
> 
> I myself first encountered the history of the Negro League in the pages of a Wishbone Mystery book called _Forgotten Heroes_. And yes, that's the same Wishbone I'm sure many of my generation remember seeing on PBS: the little dog with a big imagination!


	4. Attempting the Impossible

Auror Giles Onasi looked up from his paperwork when someone tapped on his open office door.  He smiled tiredly at the two kids peeking around the doorframe and waved them inside.  “What can I do for you two?” he asked, mentally steeling himself for whatever mess their uncle and Team One had gotten into _this_ time.

Looking uncharacteristically uncertain, the two Calvins entered the half-neat, half-wild office.  Giles’ desk was neat enough, but the walls alternated between old wanted posters, fading and peeling paint, and a set of tall, but a touch rickety bookshelves.  Behind the desk, an old techie file cabinet lurked, top drawer open.  “Well, we were wondering if you could help us with something,” Alanna began, after a wondering look around the office.

“Yes?” Giles prompted.

But the redhead bit her lip, giving her brother a pleading, ‘you-do-it’ look.  Lance sighed at the look, tossing back a ‘you- _owe_ -me’ look.  “We’re looking for a place where we can set up a dueling tournament – a big enough place to have audience seating.”

A frown traced its way across Giles’ face.  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t there a _dueling tournament_ coming up at your school?”

Two heads bobbed in agreement.

“So why go looking for another place?” Giles questioned, cocking his head to the side.

The Calvins fidgeted, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting.

“Hey, come on, you two,” Giles coaxed, his instincts screaming that something was up.  “It’s me, remember?  You can trust me; I promise I won’t laugh or anything like that.”

Violet and sapphire came up, just a little.  Then the story came out, in a flood that left the Auror breathless.  The tournament flyers, Lance’s attempt to get tickets for Team One, the investigation after the Defense Professor refused to give them tickets for Muggles, the meeting the two kids had only just left, and their plan to put on a dueling tournament that Muggles _could_ come to.  Giles frowned, asking a question here, a question there, clarifying what they’d discovered since finding out their uncle and his teammates weren’t welcome at the school competition.

When the flood of words stopped, Giles made a few more notes, his frown going deeper.  “Anything else?”

Lance licked his lips, then swung his backpack off his back and down on the floor.  He pulled what looked like a Muggle notebook from it and flipped through it before stopping at one page in particular.  “Yeah,” the teen growled, walking up to Giles’ desk and thrusting the notebook at him.  “This.”

Giles took the notebook warily, examining the page.  Halfway down the page, he froze and shot back up to the top of the page to reread it.  The teens watched in silence as Giles finished reading, his fingers tightening on the edges of the notebook as he looked up.  “There were Muggle-Repelling Charms _on_ the tickets?” he demanded roughly.

“If there weren’t, whatever _was_ on those tickets was doing a bloody good job of _imitating_ Muggle-Repelling Charms,” Lance confirmed, sapphire flashing.  His gaze dropped and he added, rather bitterly, “But I bet it’s not illegal, is it?”

Giles sighed heavily.  “No,” he agreed, “The school could justify it as a necessary precaution to ensure that no Muggles ‘not in the know’ can pick up the tickets and find out about magic.”  He glanced through the notes Lance had taken again, his shoulders slumping further.  “ _None_ of this is illegal, Lance, even if it’s extremely unfair that the school – and any unscrupulous purebloods – profited off of ticket sales to students who couldn’t give the tickets to their parents.”

Brown eyes flicked up and Giles smirked, just a little.  “But I _can_ help you two with your dueling tournament.”  The Auror paused, then drew out a sheaf of parchment; he placed it next to Lance’s notebook and drew his wand.  Angling his wand at the notebook, he murmured, “ _Exscribo_ **(2)**,” and moved his wand to the empty sheaf of parchment.  An exact copy of the notes Lance had made appeared on the parchment; the Auror nodded, then returned Lance’s notebook to him.  Once the young man stowed his notebook and slung his backpack up again, Auror Onasi ushered the two teens out of his office, flicking his wand to close and lock the door behind them.

* * * * *

The small dueling hall Auror Onasi took them to rested off the beaten path; instead of residing in Toronto’s main magical mall, it was tucked in a lower rent area that, on the surface, appeared to be similar to London’s Knockturn Alley, but Onasi assured the kids that it was a safe area, just a bit poorer and less traveled than Toronto’s usual magical hubs.

The hall itself was threadbare, but neat and well-kept.  The lettering on the window, declaring the hall to be the Shiloh Dueling Academy, was quite plain, but fresh; none of the letters were faded or peeling.  Lance and Alanna gazed around the hall, then glanced up at Auror Onasi, their questions clear.

Auror Onasi smiled at them and guided them to a spartan office where a black haired man with light brown eyes looked up from his work, both of his rather bushy eyebrows rising.  His hair was short and receding, with the beginnings of a bald spot at the back, and his face was full, with a scar right along his jawline.  “Auror Onasi,” he greeted, a friendly enthusiasm in his voice and on his face as he rose to exchange handshakes with the Auror.  “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Well, Mr. Taylor, let me introduce you to two kids with a big idea,” Auror Onasi led off, his own smile in his voice as he returned the handshake.  “Lance, Alanna, this is Grant Taylor; he owns and runs this establishment.  From what I hear, most of the homeschoolers come here to learn dueling.”

“We’ve also got a club on Thursday nights,” Mr. Taylor added, giving the two teens an encouraging grin.  “And we get the occasional dispute or honor duel here, too.”  He looked past them, a sorrowful look flashing over his face.  “It’s not much, but we get by.”  Turning back to his guests, he focused on the kids and clapped his hands together.  “So!  What’s your big idea?”

Lance gave Mr. Taylor a friendly, but challenging look.  “Right now, our school is planning to hold a school-wide dueling tournament,” he began.

“Right.” Mr. Taylor murmured, one hand coming up to rub at his chin as he listened.

“On the flyers it says that parents are welcome, but when I tried to get tickets for our Muggle family friends – who already know about magic, by the way – I was told ‘no’.”  Mr. Taylor jerked back at that, throwing an astonished look at Auror Onasi.  “So my sister and I asked around and it turns out no Muggleborns or half-bloods with a Muggle parent can invite their folks to _any_ school events.”

“Really?” Mr. Taylor interrupted, his expression incredulous.  “The school won’t let Muggle parents visit the school at _all_?”

Both teens nodded somberly.  “We arranged a meeting,” Alanna whispered, though she did so from behind her brother and her whispering forced Mr. Taylor to lean forward to hear her.  “With all the Muggleborns and most of the half-bloods at the school; they confirmed it.  Lots of them have asked, some tried to just bring their parents, and some of them even _did_ get tickets, but they couldn’t use them.”

“Really,” Mr. Taylor repeated, his tone now heavy as he saw where his two underage guests were going.  “So, the two of you would like to arrange _another_ dueling tournament?  One where all parents really _are_ invited?”

“Yes, sir,” Lance confirmed quietly.  “Money’s not an issue, Mr. Taylor, if you’re worried about that.”

* * * * *

Grant Taylor had, prior to Giles Onasi and these two kids dropping in, been going through his books, searching for the Galleons to keep his Academy out of the red and in business.  Every month, it got just a bit harder to find the funds, every month brought his small staff and business that much closer to unemployment and bankruptcy.  There really weren’t all that many homeschoolers and the Thursday club didn’t bring in enough business or member dues to keep the Floo open, maintain and improve the hall’s wards, or power the specialized heating runes so necessary for Canadian winters.

On the one hand, no one would thank him or his staff for making it _easier_ for Muggles to get involved in their magical children’s lives.  In fact, hosting a tournament like this one would probably be the tipping point in his constant battle to stay open.  If he did this, there’d be no turning back…he’d be ostracized and his business blacklisted.

On the _other_ …it rankled that the school would, deliberately and systemically, force _children_ to cut ties with their own families…their own _parents_ , simply because those parents did not have magic themselves.  As a man with a wife, a wife with whom he’d been trying to have a child for _years_ , it cut to the very heart of Grant’s beliefs.  _No_ child should be forced to decide between their family or their future…not unless the family was abusive.

But Grant wasn’t about to jump into something like this on the say-so of a pair of school kids.  “Could you two give us a moment?” he requested.  Gesturing to the next room, he added, “You can watch Brady’s defensive magic class, all right?”

Two sets of eyes studied him and then they nodded and vanished into the classroom, leaving Grant free to pull Giles back into his office.  Giles arched a brow and spoke before Grant could.  “If you’re worried about the money aspect, don’t.  As far as Gringotts is concerned, Heir Calvin is the Head of House Calvin in all but name; they won’t even blink at your bill.”

“Forget the money, Giles, and shoot straight with me.  Is the school _really_ cutting parents out of their kids’ lives?”  Grant’s eyes darkened as he met Giles’ gaze and his shoulders tensed, right along with his jaw.

The flippancy faded from Giles’ face and he looked away from Grant with a soft sigh.  “A year ago, heck, six _months_ ago, I’d have said ‘no’, without even checking.  Or I’d have justified it the same way the school is: we have to protect our world from the Muggles and if that means a few students can’t invite their parents to school events, so be it.”

Grant stiffened.  “You’re _half-blood_ , Giles, how could you _say_ a thing like that?”

“And you’re Muggleborn,” Giles retorted, snapping his head back and giving Grant an angry look.  “Tell me now, Grant.  Did this happen to _you_ when you were in school?  Is _that_ why you haven’t talked to your folks since graduation?”

Silence hung between the two men and the answer was all-too-obvious.  But Grant finally said it anyway.  “Yes,” he admitted heavily, sinking into the seat behind his desk.  “They thought I was rebelling, pushing them away.  They came when I invited them to mine and Brooke’s wedding, but I haven’t seen them since.”

“Did you ever try to reach out?  Explain things?”

“Of course I did,” Grant shot back, stiffening up again.  “But they didn’t want to hear it.”  He stared out the door, looking into his past, then shook himself, shifting back to Giles.  “You said you’d have said that a year ago.  What about now?”

It was Giles’ turn to squirm.  “Now?”  He drew in a deep breath.  “Now, I’m going to tell you that if you _don’t_ do this, you’ll always regret it, Grant.  Maybe _you_ can’t get your parents back, but these kids aren’t there yet.  We… _you_ …can make a difference, change the way things have _always_ been to what they _could_ be.  But _only_ if you’re willing to make a stand; _only_ if you’re willing to risk it all.”

* * * * *

Once again, whispers flew thick and fast through the student population at the Toronto School of Magic, whispers of a dueling tournament where anyone was welcome and all parents – magical or not – could come and see their kids compete.  The tournament brackets, it was said, were to be identical to the school brackets and it was quietly pointed out that the school tournament was strictly voluntary; no grades were at stake, no penalty could be assigned for _not_ attending the tournament.

The purebloods sniffed disapprovingly at the very _idea_ of a dueling tournament where _Muggles_ were welcome, but they were wise enough to keep such thoughts to themselves as nearly three-quarters of the rest of the school buzzed excitedly about the idea.  Shawn, for his part, was extremely disappointed when the Calvin siblings apologetically refused to compete in the school dueling tournament.  Alanna sighed to herself, then slapped a flyer for the new tournament against Shawn’s chest as she walked past.

* * * * *

On the Friday that should have marked Team One’s first visit to the Toronto School of Magic – minus their Sergeant who’d been to the school before – Team One found themselves at a small, but bustling dueling hall off the beaten path, newly spruced up for the First Annual Shiloh Techie League Dueling Tournament.  Inside, parents and kids of all ages and descriptions, in varying states of dress and preparation, ran every which way as the Shiloh Dueling Academy prepared to kick off the tournament.

“Grant, we need another twenty seats in the west stands,” a portly wizard in red with white trim robes informed an extremely busy Grant Taylor.

“Well then Brady, _add_ another twenty seats to the west stands,” Grant countered, even as he waved over another wizard in the same robes; this wizard was black and almost bouncing with excitement at the day’s events.  “J.T., start getting the parents seated and have Brooke round up the first years to kick off the first bracket, all right?”

“Brooke’s already rounding them up, Grant,” J.T. reported, his grin going wider.  “Boy, this place is full to the rafters and some of the parents are asking about lessons for their kids.”

“Well, tell them we’ll get the material to them on Sunday, once the tournament’s over, okay?”

“Sure thing, Grant,” J.T. called as he dragged Brady away with him.  “Come on, Brady, let’s get those seats added to the stands and get this show on the road!”

“Mr. Taylor?” Greg inquired hesitantly; the wizard looked to have his hands full with whatever he was currently working on.

Grant jabbed his wand at a board and nodded to himself as it rose into the air and attached itself to two dangling ceiling mounts.  The wand disappeared as he turned to Team One.  “What can I do for you gentlemen – and lady?” he added hastily as he spotted Jules.

“I’m Greg Parker; we’re looking for two wizards,” Greg held out his hand to indicate their heights, “about yea-high, with brown and red hair…”

“And way too much enthusiasm?” Grant finished, the smile on his face broadening as amusement danced in his eyes.  “Well, if I’m not mistaken, Lance is helping some of the older boys set up the announcer’s booth and Alanna is helping my wife corral the first years for their duels.  You must be their famous uncle.”

“Guilty as charged,” Parker chuckled.

He earned a smirk from Taylor, the black-haired man leaning forward.  “So, which one of you came up with the word ‘techie’?”

Spike’s responding smirk was immediate and helped along by Lou’s playful shove, pushing the geek to the front of the group.  Greg slung an arm around Spike’s shoulder, pretending not to notice as Ed ruffled the bomb tech’s hair.  “That would be Constable Scarlatti here, Mr. Taylor.”

“Well, speaking as a Muggleborn myself, I rather like it,” Taylor confided.  “But you’d better get inside and find your seats.  We’re getting started in about half an hour.”

“Copy that,” Greg acknowledged, waving his team in ahead of him.  Once they were in the event hall, he dropped his smile and arched a brow at Taylor.  “How much are _mio nipotes_ spending on this?”

“Not a Knut,” Taylor replied, returning the serious look.  “Between ticket sales and a donation from a friend of mine who liked the idea, we’re set.  The Techie League _is_ helping run things today and they did a lot of the work to get the word out and set the hall up, but none of them are paying for any part of this.”  The smile returned to the other man’s face.  “Glad you and your team could make it, Sergeant Parker.”

* * * * *

Greg found his seat and couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Spike and Lou already wrist-deep in popcorn and bantering back and forth as they watched the audience assemble.  “Looking forward to this, Sarge?” Jules asked from her seat right behind Greg’s.

“Yes, I am, Jules,” Greg replied, smiling as he twisted around to talk to her.  “I think this is going to be one heck of a show.”

From the announcer’s booth, a familiar voice rose, “Welcome to the First Annual Shiloh Techie League Dueling Tournament!  And a big welcome to the first years who’ll be getting our dueling tournament started!”

Cheers, whoops, and a few cat-calls rose from the audience as the announcer’s enthusiasm spread to the stands.  After several seconds, the announcer continued, switching gears to the rules of the tournament.  “This tournament is a single-elimination tournament with the winners of each bracket progressing to the next bracket until the final two first years compete for the honor of joining the second year bracket!”

More cheers rose from the stands and the dueling floor, where the first years were coming out onto the stage.  Over the cheering, the announcer called, “Each bracket has been randomly assigned and each duel will be to a yield or disarmament.  No physical contact is permitted and use of any Dark Arts or lethal curses is grounds for an immediate forfeit from the entire tournament.  So, without any further ado, let’s give our first years a big round of applause and _let’s get this party started!_ ”

Team One roared just as loud as the rest of the parents as the first pair of first years took their spots in the dueling ring, sparks flying from their wands before a tall, shapely blonde in Shiloh Academy robes reined them in and counted down to start the duel.  Bolts of color and globes of light shot back and forth as the first years, not yet trained to duel, fought to do just that.

Laughter rose from the stands as the first duel ended with a loud announcement of, “Disarmament, _Wingardium Leviosa_ style!”

 

[2] Latin for ‘to copy’


	5. Techie Tournament

Jules shrieked with laughter as two first-year boys managed to turn each others’ hair pink, then added her voice to the cheers as they kept fighting, neither seeming to realize what had happened.  Globes of light flew back and forth, some accompanied by wand sparks before one of the boys finally nailed the other boy with a levitation spell…only he managed to levitate his opponent rather than just his opponent’s wand.

The crowd sucked in an anxious breath, then the levitation spell failed, dropping the boy to the ground, where he tripped and fell on his face.  The other boy raced over as the boy who’d been dropped started to cry, then he threw himself down next to his opponent, the contrition on his face clear even from the stands.  Brooke Taylor swept up and over to both boys, ushering them off stage.  Jules glanced over at Sam, biting her lip anxiously.

“The judges have ruled,” the announcer called, drawing their attention back to the stage.  “Match goes to Austin!”

The audience cheered, but they were a bit more subdued than before.  After another minute, the two boys were ushered back on stage and Austin’s hand was lifted high by Mrs. Taylor.  Jules examined both boys; their hair was no longer pink and although Austin’s opponent had tear tracks on his face, he was smiling again.  Jules added her voice to the lusty cheers.

Sam edged sideways in his seat and whispered, “They’ve got Healers here for any injuries, Jules.”

Oh.  Of _course_ they did.  Jules grinned at him.  “I wonder if anyone got a picture of them before their hair changed back.”

The return grin lit up his face.  “Jules, you can _bet_ on it.”

* * * * *

Three matches later, Austin was pitted against another first year boy and promptly tried to repeat his successful tactic from his first duel.  Unfortunately, his opponent cast the exact same spell at the exact same time and both boys were disarmed.

Undaunted, the other boy launched at Austin, swinging his fist into Austin’s nose.  The audience winced and several people booed.  Austin stumbled back, rubbing at his nose; then the little boy puffed up in indignation and returned the favor, starting a fistfight that lasted until the portly Brady and the lithe J.T. broke the two apart and hauled them off the stage.

Jules whistled low and murmured to Spike, “Bet they’re both disqualified.”

“Uh-huh,” Spike agreed.

Less than a minute later, the announcer confirmed their suspicions.  Both first years were most definitely disqualified and the winner of the next match would automatically advance to the semi-finals.

* * * * *

The final first year match between a young girl with glasses and a boy who already looked like a menace consisted of the usual ducking, dodging, and weaving right up until the girl leveled her wand and screamed, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

A razor-thin, pale red jet of light launched at the menace, hitting him and sending his wand flying towards his opponent.  She fumbled the catch, but the stands roared with approval, rising to their feet to cheer the victorious first year.

“And winning decisively with our first _Expelliarmus_ charm is Madeline Murray!” the announcer whooped.  “A big congratulations to Madeline, who will be advancing to the second year bracket!”  The audience cheered loudly, forcing the announcer to wait them out.  When the noise died down, the announcer added cheerfully, “We will now have a thirty minute intermission so our second years can assemble in the back and all the parents can stretch their legs and get more snacks!”

_That_ earned a cheer all its own, particularly from Lou and Spike.

* * * * *

The second year matches were a blur as the second years threw spells back and forth, mostly _Expelliarmus_ , but also a few more inventive spells.  One girl nailed her opponent with a Tooth-Growing spell, forcing a halt to the match before the other girl’s teeth grew to the floor.

Another second year boy somehow snuck a packet of prank balloons into the dueling arena and promptly pelted his opponent with water balloons that turned the little girl’s hair neon pink, yellow, and green.  The little girl puffed up with fury and chased the boy all around the arena, completely forgetting her wand as she shrieked at her opponent for ruining her hair.  The boy was very relieved when J.T. plucked him off his feet and disqualified him for the balloons.

The first year who’d made it into the second year bracket lost her first match, but her face was dry as she sat next to her mother in the row above Team One; she’d won the first year tournament and that was enough for her.

* * * * *

Alanna stepped out onto the dueling floor for her first match, earning a loud whoop from Team One and a few catcalls from Spike; Greg whacked the tech upside the head immediately afterwards.  She smiled shyly up at her family, then turned towards her opponent, her expression firm.

Jules bit down on a nail as the redhead danced and dodged, never firing a spell of her own back at her opponent.  The crowd murmured, used to spells flying back and forth, not a girl who wouldn’t fight back.  A _ooooh_ went through the crowd as Alanna actually flipped backwards over an _Expelliarmus_ , rolling the other way to dodge a Stunner.  Jules’ eyes narrowed thoughtfully as Alanna’s opponent stepped up her casting.  Alanna kept dodging and dancing, but finally cast her first spell, a quick _Protego_ that deflected two Stunners and a Disarming Charm.

The other girl screamed, losing her temper, and Alanna made her move, twirling her wand and casting a Stunner that flew across the distance to send her opponent flying into the wards of the dueling arena.  Casually, Alanna twirled her wand and sheathed it in a single motion, bowing to the audience as Team One whooped and cheered for her.

“Wonder who that girl was?” Wordy mused.  “ ‘Lanna was definitely trying to get under her skin with those moves.”

Their Sergeant grinned, just a bit.  “I think _mio nipotes_ are taking advantage of the tournament to show off their skills and get a bit back on their schoolyard bullies.”

“Bullies?” Ed and Wordy demanded together.

A nod.  “They think I don’t know,” Sarge explained.  “I haven’t said anything because they don’t want me to.  And given how the wizarding world treats tech-borns, I think they might have been trying to protect their bullies from getting in trouble with the school for ‘assaulting’ purebloods.”

“But now the gloves are off,” Sam observed.  “Betcha no one tries to bully ‘em again.”

“There’s always gonna be someone,” Lou countered.  “ ‘Specially the people who _aren’t_ here.”

“Good point,” Sam admitted.

* * * * *

Alanna made it to the fourth-year bracket and even survived her first two matches, but lost her third bout.  The redhead joined Team One, bringing fresh soda and popcorn for the entire group.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Spike asked, yelping when his team leader whacked him.  “ _Ed_ ,” the bomb tech whined.

“Better me than Sarge,” Ed retorted, gesturing to their boss, who was leveling Spike with a deadly glare.

Spike sulked as Alanna laughed and passed out the snacks, then perked up as the next match ended with both girls screaming at each other for burning off their eyebrows and making their hair stand on end.  J.T. and Brooke intervened as the hair pulling started and hauled the girls off stage for a sit-down.

“Who’s taking over when the fifth years start?” Sarge asked Alanna as she sat down next to him.

“I think Tim Speedeli is,” Alanna replied.  “He’s a seventh year, so unless brother mine does a lot better than I think he will, he’ll be done by the time Tim needs to get ready.  Or maybe one of the other boys will take over for the rest of the tournament.”

Jules leaned over Sam.  “Alanna, congrats on winning the third year bracket.”

“Thanks, Aunt Jules,” Alanna replied shyly, returning Jules’ high five.

* * * * *

The duels grew more intense, with spells flying every which way and the combatants pulling out all the stops as they fought.  More than once, the Healers had to be called onto the stage to check over a downed duelist.  The stands always froze, then cheered wildly as the duelist stood up, injured but still moving under their own power.

Spike choked on his laughter as the first two fifth years managed to transfigure their opponent’s clothing, leaving the boy in a pink tutu and the girl in a clown suit.  The crowd roared with laughter as the girl in the clown suit took advantage of her opponent’s attempt to undo the transfiguration to nail him with a Stunner.  Once he was safely down, she calmly reversed the transfiguration on her robes and bowed to the stands.

* * * * *

Lance’s strategy was different from his sister’s.  Instead of dragging his duels out and humiliating his opponents by being impossible to hit, he opened up every duel with several over powered curses that ranged from Stunners to Disarming Charms to a few obscure first year spells that left his opponents dancing or unable to stand as their legs turned to jelly, or coughing too hard to cast.

In the event that his opening volley failed, the teenager cast several shielding charms and darted between them as he hurled offensive spells at his targets, using attrition to wear them down.  The overlapping shielding charms meant that if one failed, he could always retreat behind one that had not and recast.

Alanna nodded thoughtfully as her brother powered through to the fifth year final.  “Risky,” she murmured, drawing several looks.  “He’s banking on having enough magical reserves to keep this up for the rest of the tournament,” she explained.

“Does he?” Spike asked curiously.

The girl’s expression was blank.  “Let’s find out.”

* * * * *

By his seventh duel, two duels into the sixth year bracket, the strategy was beginning to show its weakness as the teen cut back on his shields and dropped part of his overpowered opening volley.  His opponent very nearly won as Lance skipped away from an overloaded shield in the nick of time and ducked down to snap off a Disarming Charm.

Greg bit his lip as his nephew stepped up again for his eighth duel, glancing sideways at Alanna.  The redhead’s expression was blank, but he could see a spark of worry underneath her reserve.  “Come on, _mio nipote_ ,” Greg murmured, “Don’t kill yourself over a school contest.”

Lance stepped back into the opening stance, then ducked to the side, not casting any spells at all.  In short order, Team One realized the teenager was borrowing his sister’s style as he ducked, wove, and dodged his opponent’s spellfire.  He snapped off a few spells of his own, but stayed on the defensive as the contest wore on.  It was finally his undoing as the sixth year girl hurled three Stunners to keep him busy while she turned the ground to ice.  Lance slipped on the ice and tumbled, losing his wand as she nailed him with a Disarming Charm.

Greg came to his feet as his nephew remained on his back, panting hard.  The big sixth year girl ended the ice spell and trekked over to Lance, offering him a hand up.  He accepted the help and she pulled him up, then guided him off the stage.  Greg, for his part, was off like a shot, heading for the backstage area.

* * * * *

When Greg reached his nephew’s side, the teenager was halfway through a bottle of water and his opponent was still hovering over him.  “Lance, how you doing?” Greg asked, kneeling next to his nephew’s chair.

Lance offered a crooked smile.  “I’m fine, Uncle Greg.  Just pushed it a bit.”

“Mr. Parker,” the girl spoke up, drawing Greg’s eyes to herself.  “I wanted to say ‘thank you’.”

Greg arched a brow.  “ _Mio nipotes_ did most of the work on this one,” he pointed out.

She smiled back.  “But they did it for _you_ , sir.  My parents have never seen me do any magic before today and my sister’s been taunting me about my magic being freaky.  All of them are here today and I think we’re gonna be okay.  It’s not just a cult or a scam to them any more.”  She bobbed her head to both of them and left.

Lance finished his water bottle.  “So, you want to see the rest of the tournament, Uncle Greg?”

For a moment, Greg considered it.  Then he shook his head and chuckled.  “No, _mio nipote_ , I think I’ve seen enough dueling for one day.”  Tugging his nephew up, Greg guided him towards the door.  “I’m thinking pizza tonight, how about you?”

“Meat Lover’s?” Lance asked hopefully.

“I think we can do that,” Greg agreed; that sounded pretty good to him, too.  “Do you and Alanna get trophies for winning your brackets?”

“Not this year,” Lance replied.  “Mr. Taylor offered, but we figured it was short notice, so we said maybe next year.”

Greg nodded to himself, making a mental note to have Spike make up a certificate or something along those lines.  Slinging an arm around his nephew’s shoulder, Greg leaned in.  “I’m proud of you, both of you.  You did good.”

Suddenly shy sapphire peeked up at him.  “You’re not disappointed that you don’t get to see the school?”

The Sergeant laughed.  “I think,” he decided, “I’ve seen something a whole lot better.”  He pushed open the door, letting the cheers from the main part of the hall spill in.  Looking down at his tired, but happy nephew, Greg ruffled the teen’s hair.  “Come on, sport, let’s go find some pizza.”

“All right!”

 

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I wish I could lay claim to the staff of the Shiloh Dueling Academy, I cannot. I adapted several characters from the movie _Facing the Giants_ for the Academy staff. I have not changed the names of any of the borrowed characters, but I did change a few other things to fit with the Magical Flashpoint 'verse.


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